Spartan: Beginnings
by fattydubbs
Summary: Chapter 4 is up everyone! a prequel to the first halo, about the creation of the Spartan powerhouses, and the people that made it possible. Very in-depth R&R please
1. the experiment

I do not own halo, nor do I own any of the characters in it. If any names from other stories are named, please inform me, and I will be quick to change it, because it is only coincidence.

Anchorage, Alaska 2523

Dr. Martin Melon was a rather tall man, of almost a lanky stature. He had light brown hair, and hazel eyes. As of three years ago, he no longer had any family or friends, except for the people that worked for him in his underground complex in Alaska. Dr. Melon was a graduate of Harvard Medical School, and for his accomplishments in Nano-machine technology and bodily implants, he received an honorary degree from MIT.

Dr. Melon worked day and night in his underground facility in Anchorage. He had not seen anyone other than his small, underfunded research team in almost three years. However, his project was almost complete, and hopefully it could be released to the government before the tensions between the humans and the covenant escalated to war.

The project that he and his team worked on was top secret. It was so top secret that all researchers involved had every trace of existence removed. They had no families, no birth certificates, no licenses, or any other marks of identification. They were just a group of "non-existent" scientists working on possibly the greatest war machine ever built.

The project they were working on, known as the Spartan Project, had many crucial phases. At first, the soldier had to have every voluntary muscle in his body brought to its "physical limits" multiple times, in order to compare results and to create a formula with the proper potency as not to kill the soldier. Next, the soldier went through an extensive series of tests, covering everything from the simplest math, to the most advanced forms of science. The soldier then had to go through many different coordination tests, where he would be forced to encounter many different battle situations where things like his weapons skill, and any possible skills with the defusing of explosives. The scientists would then combine all of these skills on to one basic evaluation sheet, where they would use a special formula for the bodily implants. They would then have to repeat every test to check the levels of success.

These bodily implants would be scattered all over the body, in order to stimulate muscles, and use a fluid to improve the maximum physical and mental capacity of the soldier. If all went well, the soldiers being tested would show at least a two-hundred percent increase in their physical and mental capabilities. After the final tests were completed, the soldiers would then have to live in a simulated environment similar to normal and military life, in order to observe any possible psychological breakdowns, such as the basic nervous breakdown, or even breaching on insanity. Upon completion of the testing, the soldiers would be fitted into special uniforms designed for the soldiers, which would combine the best human and covenant technology.

The suit would constantly be monitoring the heart rate and the amount of the special formula that was left in the implants. Once the implants would run low, the suit would automatically refill the implants. The suit carried enough of this fluid to last the soldier up to three years of constant strenuous physical activity. Also, other than being heavily armored, the suit was equipped with a special variation of the covenant Overshield, which would be able to take more damage, and would also be calibrated for physical damage, such as long falls. If the soldier needed too, the suit also had built in air systems, for any air-tight space travel, and would also protect against any forms of poisonous gasses in the air. And to top it off, if any different types of upgrades were created for the implants, there was a chip bay just above the neck on the right side of the suit. Soon, the researchers hoped that they would be able to create a magnetic field that would generate from the boots, and also a calibration between the standard Remington 300 series 7.65mm sniper rife issued by the marines that would allow the suit to show a sighted view in the helmet, instead of manually using the scope.

"I just cant get this suit to automatically refill the implants." Said Dr. Melon as he breathed out a puff of his favorite brand of cigarettes, those long ones, in the red and white package.

"I just don't get it. On paper, everything seems like it should go quite well, but I guess that something went wrong. Dr. Scott, would you please come over here?"

Dr. Samantha Scott was one of Dr. Melon's fellow scientists. She was a tall figure, of around six feet. She had long dark hair with blonde streaks running through it. Her fire-engine-red lipstick brought out her beautifully green eyes, which was all topped off by a mixed blue-silver tint of eye shadow. She was also a graduate of the Harvard School of Medicine, and had known Dr. Melon all through her period there. In fact, they had been lovers since their second year into Pre-Med.

"What's the problem doctor?" she asked in her soft, mellowing voice.

"There is some type of problem with the suit. I cant seem to get it to refill the implants. Do you know what the problem is?"

"I think I see it. You don't have a neutral stimulus that is forcing the formula into the implants. It needs to work kind of like if someone is siphoning gas into a tank. You need to blow into the tubing in order for the gasoline to return through to the other end."

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that! Dang it, this means that we already need to develop an upgrade for the implants. Get Drs. Jackson and Murphy on it right away. We can continue with the daily tests of subjects 25, 82, and 117. I guess that it's kind of sad that the rest of the 120 didn't survive though. Either way, they knew the risks."

As Dr. Melon walked down the hall, he had no real idea of how big of a military innovation his 3 new creations would be.


	2. Red Rage

"Well professor, how are today's test results?" Dr Melon asked with his usual inquisitive attitude.

"Well, we are showing a 257 percent increase in physical limitations, and a 275 percent increase in mental capacity, Sir. We are doing even better than originally expected. In fact, I got a copy of the minimum physical requirements to get accepted to West Point, and they ended up scoring higher than any other potential cadet in the history of the academy. In fact, they scored higher in all testing phases than Robert E. Lee ever did. And he graduated top of his class as the only cadet to ever not get a single demerit." Said Professor Landon.

Professor Landon was the oddball of the group. He had no real scientific background, but he was chosen because he was just what was needed. He was a Calculus teacher, and a P.E. teacher at Lake Park High School in Illinois, receiving the Illinois "Teacher of the Year" three times in a row. He was here to test the remaining subjects in their physical and mental aspects. He was responsible for making up the physical tests, and the mathematics tests. Professor Landon did have a short military background, however. Upon graduating from Boston High School, he attended the United States Military Academy (USMA) at West Point. However, after a short time in the Army, he realized that the military was not the life for him, and went back to Concordia University to earn his teaching degree. Because of his background, he also managed to make up the Military Sciences portion of the testing.

"That's good to hear. I'm glad of all the progress that we are making. How long until you expect that they will be ready to return to normal barracks life?" asked Dr. Melon.

"Well, at the rate that these last three are at right now, they should be ready to return to the real world soon. In fact, according to my estimates, the soonest that they should be ready is in around three months. But, if we keep them here longer, my predictions show that we should see an even greater increase in their efficiency." Replied Professor Landon.

"Interesting. So, which of the three do you think is the most advanced, in all fields? We might consider letting only one of them go, and keeping the other two, in case you are right.

"Well surprisingly, the soldier who scored lower in all the tests of the original 120, is now scoring higher than anyone else. If you remember, soldier number 117, Master Chief John, well he is our best soldier now. In fact, he has gone under no physical or mental stress whatsoever since we inserted the implants. It is quite astonishing. He seems to be the happiest man in the world. In fact, for a while, I thought he might be sneaking in anti-depressants at night, something maybe like Wellbutrin, or maybe something else, but apparently, through daily drug tests, he hasn't been taking any medication."

"Excellent news Professor. Very impressive." Dr. Melon said appreciatively.

Just then, a loud red siren began wailing throughout the corridors, and the medical staff began rushing around trying to find out what the problem was. Melon and Landon quickly ran to the security room, where all of the station's security cameras were linked to. Apparently, one of the soldiers had been underestimated, and was able to smash through the reinforced glass that surrounded him. All of the scientists and researchers thought that eight inches of double-pane glass would be able to hold them back, but apparently not. The soldier who escaped had rammed straight through the glass, and went directly for the security cameras. Before knocking out all of the cameras, they all got a good, clear picture that identified him as subject number 82.

"I want a squad of men at every end of every corridor, half armed with horse tranquilizers, and the other half with assault rifles. I want a full detail of men guarding every possible exit in this facility. And they will not be armed with tranquilizers, they will be armed with assault rifles and combat shotguns. We cant let this bastard escape, no matter what. We would rather have him dead than roaming free across the state, free to kill or destroy anything that he wants. He is extremely smart as well. So there is no telling what he might do!" exclaimed Lieutenant General Brian Fisher.

General Fisher had always dreamed of being in the Marine Corps ever since his grandfather, Retired Corporal Christopher Fisher, would tell him stories about his exploits in operation Iraqi Freedom, where he traveled with the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit. When Fisher graduated from high school, he attended The USMC at Annapolis, where upon graduating from there, he was a given the full rank of Lieutenant. From then on, his military record was nothing but decorations, and Meritorious promotions. He had even received three Purple Heart decorations for multiple bullet wounds, and he received the Navy Cross for bravery while in immediate danger, where his platoon was ambushed by a Chinese patrol. Fisher took three bullets for his commander, and still stood his ground, firing, and even ditching a live grenade thrown by the Chinese patrol.

However, when Fisher joined the Marine Corps, he had never thought that he would be stationed in an underground complex in Alaska guarding a group of military scientists. He had really dreamed of going out to the front lines, deep in Covenant territory. In fact, this incident was the most exciting thing to happen to him in three years. He was disappointed in himself for finding an incident that could prove to be a great danger to everyone in the complex exciting. He felt ashamed, but he knew that he couldn't help the adrenaline rush that suddenly ran through his veins. In fact, he found himself wishing deep down that he was down there with his men, holding a rifle of his own. He knew that couldn't happen in a million years, but he still had the right to dream, didn't he? After all, if it weren't for dreams and ambitions, he wouldn't be here today.

"You know what? Issue all personnel gas masks as well, I have a feeling that we might just have to gas this bastard" He said, as he watched his orders being carried out.

Author's Note:

Hey everyone. I normally get a lot of homework, but I will do my best to get at least two updates a week. Remember to let me know what you think of the story. I really need people's opinions on how I am doing, and if there is anything that I should change. Oh and thank you for pointing out to me about the book related to this subject bob. I'll make sure to give it a try ASAP. Hope you like it everyone.


	3. trapped like a rat

As subject number 82 sprinted down the corridors of the underground facility, he sensed considerable movement. He believed he knew what was going to happen.

"They will probably try and seal off the doors, and maybe even the corridors with squads of marines. If that fails, they might just go for the gas." He thought to himself.

The first thing that subject 82 did is he went straight for the equipment rooms. Hopefully they hadn't sealed them off yet. If they had, it might just be too late. But there was still a chance. He could still get a weapon and a gas mask before it was too late.

Suddenly, he heard squads of troops at the each end of the corridor. He knew that if he couldn't get passed them, he was screwed. Looking around, he saw a rather large ventilation shaft on the ceiling nearby. He quickly jumped in and shut it again, as to spy on the soldiers that were chasing him.

"I could have sworn I saw him down here, Sergeant. I don't know what could have happened to him though. It doesn't look like there is any other way out other than the two directions that we came from." One Corporal told his squad leader.

"I know what you mean Corporal. I know exactly what you mean. I thought I saw something down here too. Oh well, take your men and return to your posts immediately." The Sergeant replied.

82 gave a sigh of relief when they left. He was finally in the clear. Or so he thought.

The shaft he was in began rattling and shaking, as if something was turning on at another end. When he strained his eyes to see what it was, he saw a large cloud of smoke, that had a dark green color to it. Knowing that if he came in contact with it he would never make it out, he quickly jumped down from the shaft.

Surrounding him was a detail of about 30 men, all armed with assault rifles and tranquilizer guns. It was a trap all along. The gas was just meant to flush him out of the vent, and they would wait for him to drop down. It was a simple plan, but they still had no idea of the power held by 82.

82 leaped quickly into the air and landed behind one of the assault-rifle bearing men. He quickly snapped the man's neck, and grabbed the assault rifle. At the same time, he held the dead soldier's body as a shield, to block incoming fire.

Opening fire with the assault rifle, he quickly mowed down about five men, before having to go back to hiding behind his shield. At this rate, with the amount of ammo that he had, he knew he could get out alive. Just then, he felt the hard butt of a rifle hit him square in the back of the head.

Everything went black.

* * *

As corporal Ryan Williams followed his squad leader to their assigned area, he noticed movement down one of the corridors. It looked like one of the test subjects, because he wore nothing but a white medical apron. 

"That must be him." He thought to himself.

"Sergeant, I have unidentified contact down this corridor. It was wearing the standard white medical apron, and seemed very suspicions. I suggest we investigate, Sir." Williams said, with that usual hint of military enthusiasm.

"Good eye corporal, I see it too. I'll call another nearby squad and have them cut off the other end. That way he has nowhere to go." Sergeant Johnson replied.

As both squads neared 82's position, they saw him jump quickly into the gas ventilation duct. Johnson pointed upwards, and with simple military hand signals, he told everyone that he was in the ventilation ducts. They all nodded, a universal sign that they understood.

"Hmm. Must have been nothing. Continue the search everyone." Johnson said, as he winked his eye telling them to back up a few steps and ready their weapons.

He walked to the end of the corridor, and sent word to General Fisher to start up the gas vents. He walked back to the group, and informed them quietly to put on their gas masks and prepare for 82 to leap out.

The gas vents started rumbling, with the hollow sound of machinery that had, for a long time, remained unused.

As gas started pouring out of the other vents, the men readied their weapons. Just then, the subject dropped out of the vent and looked around to find himself completely surrounded. He quickly did a back flip behind Corporal Williams, and quickly snapped his neck, grabbed William's weapon, and used him as a body shield.

He opened fire and quickly gunned down five men, and managed to hit Sergeant Johnson in the upper-right shoulder.

While battling the other soldiers, Johnson circled around 82, and hit him square in the back of the head with the butt of his assault rifle, effectively knocking him out.

"I want a set of heavily magnetized restrictive boots, and rubber jelly hand restrictors here immediately. And get me a medic. I would hate to see this 'flesh wound' start to turn gangrenous."

The boots were specially designed by military scientists before the Spartan project began for just this purpose. Thick magnetized strips ran under the hard metallic floors, which would weigh the subject down and keep him from possibly escaping.

The jelly restrictors were standard issue for violent patients admitted into mental institutions. Every time that a subject would attempt to break free, they would automatically restrict, and deliver a medium watt electrical charge through the subjects body.

As a group of Military Police officers ran down the corridor, 82 began to move around once again. Johnson quickly hit him again with the butt of his rifle, just to make sure it was safe.

The MP's secured the subject, and the detail of men helped drag him into the solitary confinement area.

"bring him into the reinforced interrogation room. And make sure that those restrictors don't come off. I don't want him free roaming through that room. You never know when he might try it again." Johnson told the MPs, with the military seriousness that he was well known for.

The MPs saluted and gave the standard "Yes Sir!" reply. They were dismissed, and the detail of men dragged 82 away.


	4. the interrogation room

It was dark. Very dark. He felt a very sharp pain in the back of his head.

The room was very cold, very silent. He couldn't sense anyone else in the room other than himself. All he could sense was one wooden chair, and a sealed door, which he doubted that he could get out of.

"Turn on these damn lights! I can't see a thing in here!" he shouted to the empty room, knowing exactly where he was.

The room he was in was a special interrogation room where the implanted soldiers were put in when they would need questioning. It was specially equipped however, with a special torture machine, designed for the easiest to the absolute worst types of torture imaginable. The room also had walls that were three feet thick, and were made of solid titanium.

"The lights are on. When you attacked that squad of soldiers, you received a rifle butt to the back of your head. The blow caused your optical nerves to become severed from the optical lobe, which is located in the rear of your head. So really, you are blind." Replied a voice from behind the double paned glass.

"Blind? What do you mean I'm blind. I swear, if I ever get out of here, I will kill all of you! I'll hang you up on a wall, and make you watch as I rip the skin off of the asshole that did this to me, inch by inch. Then I'll make you all choke to death on it! How does that sound?" he screamed at the glass, with true hatred in his veins.

Suddenly, thick metallic straps wrapped around his chest, arms, and legs which kept him from moving. A helmet was set on his head, and strapped tightly.

"Please try not to be violent with us, it could turn out to be more painful for you than you think. And besides, all we need to do is give you some minor reconstructive surgery, and you will be able to see once again. Its quite simple, and all you have to do is cooperate with us as we run some minor tests to see what drove you to your point of rage." The voice stated calmly.

"Why would I want to do that? When I get out of here, the whole world will know about this operation. That's right, it won't be much of a secret after that. I will even go as far as to sell myself to any enemy of earth." Screamed 82

"Well, then I'm afraid that we might just be forced to kill you. After all, our orders were to keep this project a complete secret, no matter what the case. In other words, we have the right to kill you if need be, and we wont hesitate." Stated the voice.

Suddenly, the helmet on his head began whirring, and the tests began. 82 tried his best to get the helmet off, but every time he tried to break the cuffs on his arms and legs, the tightened even more. There was no way for him to stop them now.

"As you can probably tell by now, the cuffs we slapped on you are the same type of cuffs used at mental institutions. Every time you try and break out of them, the get even tighter, to the point when all blood circulation is lost below the forearms. There have even been reports where the patients tried so hard, that their hands were sliced off by the cuffs. You wouldn't want that now would you?" the voice asked calmly.

After hearing that little slice of information, 82 sat perfectly still, and let the tests run. He figured that there was no point in resisting any longer, and they might as well have their tests. After all, he could always get them later when they weren't expecting it. Then he would have his revenge.

"Looks like all that I can do now, is wait until they put me back into my room, and then I can just break out again. Then I will find out who did this to me, and I'll kill him. I will put him through the worst torture he will ever feel. I'll make him sorry that he ever did this to me." 82 thought to himself.

"I might have been born at night 82, but it wasn't last night. The helmet we are using analyzes your mental patterns at the time you went postal on everyone, and it also tells us what you were thinking, and what you are thinking right now. So just to let you know, you will not be going back to your normal living environment, and there will always be at least two guns aimed at you, thanks to our new security system." The voice firmly stated.

"Damn you people. Damn you all. Fuck with me, and you will be sorry. NOW GIVE ME MY SIGHT BACK!" he screamed, his rage building with every word.

A small rod poked into 82's neck, and a powerful jolt of electricity ran through his body. The shock stopped, and the voice calmly came back over the speaker again:

"If you continue to resist, you will continue to be electrocuted. So please stop, and just sit still." The voice said.

"fuck you all. Fuck you all to hell!" he screamed with even more hatred than before.

Once again, the rod delivered an electric shock. The only difference this time, is it didn't stop. The shock just kept going.

"I suppose that you should know, that the tests are complete. But, due to your mental instability, and your now- constant violent behavior, you will be terminated. I wish it could have been different, but you just refused to cooperate. Goodbye." The voice said calmly.

The shock kept going until subject 82's vital signs disappeared. His body went limp, and the shock stopped. A team of armed guards walked into the room, and released the cuffs, guns pointed the whole time at his head and chest. He was already dead, but there was no telling what the implants could do to him.

"subject 82 is now deceased. Nurse, please record time of death as 1843 hours, with a cause of death being electrocution causing severe trauma to the nervous system, which caused death." Professor Landon, who was the man behind the speaker, said to the nurse behind him.

"Yes sir, right away." She replied, already on her way out of the room.

The soldiers carried subject 82's body away to the cremation area, where the body would be immediately cremated, and his ashes spread throughout an empty patch of soil surrounded by the plants and trees that kept the team of scientists fed for the many years they had been down there for.

"I just hope that this never happens again" professor Landon thought to himself.


	5. medical emergency

Author's note: thanks for all of the reviews guys, I'm really glad that people like this story. And once again, I am aware that there is a series by Eric Nylund, but it isn't a spinoff. It is just my own version of how it happened. Thanks again for the good reviews everyone!

* * *

Professor Landon walked into the living quarters of subject 117. the living quarters were just as they should be. It was, as the military called it, "G.I. perfect." G.I. perfect meant that the room would pass on a G.I., or General Inspection, which was now conducted daily. Landon looked around, seeing that everything was in good order. He saw 117 sitting at his desk, shining his leather shoes, which to the normal eye, already looked miraculous. But for his military expertise they were not good enough.

"Hello 117, how are you doing today?" Landon asked as kindly as he could, knowing that the soon-to-be Spartan could kill him in the blink of an eye if he wanted to.

117 was different from the other subjects. He acted normal. He had no increased heart rate, and he had no psychological problems. He was as sane as humanly possible. While active in the Marines, the had obtained the rank of Master Chief, which was quite high for a man with his background. He was originally a college football player for the Florida Gators, and had been raised in Shreveport, Louisiana. He was a Southern boy, and had been raised like one too. Upon graduating from College, he immediately joined the marines, as an enlisted infantryman. He came out of boot camp at the top of his class, and was quickly appointed a squad leader position. He continued to climb through the ranks, and eventually came to be where he was today. The only strange thing about him was that no one knew his last name. They only knew his first name, John. He had always preferred to be called by his rank, however. He was the Master Chief, a name that would some day strike fear into every Covenant's heart.

"I'm not doing too bad sir. Thank you for asking. I'm just about done with my shoes, and then I was going to get permission to go to the shooting range. After all, my accuracy is still pretty low. I only shot a 97 last time I went, Sir" 117 said with no hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear about that. You do have my permission to go and shoot when you are done. After all, I want nothing more than to see my soldiers excel." Landon replied informatively.

"Thank you Sir. Oh, and before you leave sir, I was just wondering about what happened to 82. Did he do something wrong sir?"

"Yes I'm afraid he did. You see 117, subject 82 was not the same as you. He was not psychologically stable, like you are. He went insane, and killed too many people. He had to get rid of him. May he rest in peace. Just think of it as a lesson though. You never really know your true physical limits until you are tried in a real battle situation. 82 went too far, and it got out of control. He killed five people without even considering the consequences. He just snapped someone's neck, and sprayed a few others full of lead. But I don't think that you would do that. Would you?" Landon asked as if he were talking to a child.

"No sir, I wouldn't. In fact, I wish you would have let me kill him for you. He put down the good name of us Spartans. He is, I mean was, a horrible person." 117 said in all seriousness.

"That's right, he was 117. Oh and before I forget, in about a week, you will be restored to your former rank. That's right, soon you will be the Master Chief again. In fact, you will be doing a government demonstration in just a few weeks as well. I really hope that you do well. After all, you are my 'Star Student.' I would hate to be made a fool. Now if you come to the armory at, oh say, 1630 hours today, we can have your armor suit fitted for you. We finally completed it. It looks completely amazing. You will love it. But for now, carry on with what you are doing. I'll leave you alone for now. Just keep up the good work son." Landon said, letting his pride show maybe a bit too much.

"Sir, Yes Sir!" 117 replied, gleaming with joy.

Landon returned to the observation room, where he watched subjects 117 and 25 conduct their normal activities. 25 was doing the "Raider Mile," which was an obstacle course with a one quarter mile track next to it. The course had twelve obstacles, and after every obstacle, you would run one lap. Essentially it was three miles, and one full run through the obstacle course. 117 was at the shooting range, just like he said. Looking at their vital signs, he saw that 117 had a normal heart rate, and no stress whatsoever.

But when Landon looked at the monitor that displayed 25's vital signs, he notice a highly irregular heart beat, a high pulse, an extremely high blood pressure, and an insane amount of stress. This could only mean a few things. And none of them were good.

Landon quickly got over the loudspeaker and paged Drs. Melon and Scott to the obstacle course.

"Attention all faculty, Drs. Melon and Scott, please report to the obstacle course immediately. We have a situation.

Looking at the screen, he noticed that 117 had disappeared from the firing range, and was nowhere to be seen. And when he looked at 25, he had collapsed onto the ground. He looked in shock as what he thought was the first medical assistance arrived. But it wasn't medical assistance at all. It was 117.

Landon watched as 117 picked up 25 and made a dash for the hospital.

"Attention all faculty, Drs. Melon and Scott, please redirect to the hospital. We have an emergency." He said, with a hint of fear in his voice.


End file.
